


Free Fall

by Malakia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Assassin John, Assassin's Creed - Freeform, Assassins, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform, Piratelock, Sherlock - Freeform, Slow Build, Templar Mycroft, Templar Sherlock, aclock, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malakia/pseuds/Malakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassin's Creed/Sherlock Crossover</p>
<p>Growing up is never easy if you are apart of the Templars or Assassins. From the time you are born to the time you die it is the only life you live. Live and die by the Creed. This is no exception for Sherlock and John, as they grow from childhood into the people they are meant to be. Through everything though, can love survive this battlefield?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This a collab/companion piece to the lovely thetwelfthpanda comic of the same name: Free Fall. 
> 
> If you want to read it you can find the entire comic here: http://thetwelfthpanda.tumblr.com/aclock 
> 
> She updates very frequently and you should check out her other work! She is such an awesome artist. And I thank her for giving me the honor to work with her.

 

The air was unpleasantly warm in the higher levels of the Theatre Royal where the rich and powerful all sat as they watched the performance on the stage. Though many had come to enjoy the opera there were many who were there to discuss business and patrons below could hear the soft murmurs floating down as the performers sang out. One particular box seat near the stage sat two young boys, both barely paying attention to the opera playing before them. The eldest sat ridge in his seat, resisting the urge to pull at his collar to alleviate some of the stickiness there, while the younger was leaning on the railing.

Mycroft Holmes, though young for his age, was far beyond his year, sometimes even being mistakened as a man in his 20s rather than the 16 year old he actually was. It was why he was able to take his little brother out, unattended by other adults, to these sort of things. He was currently though now regretting having given in to his brother’s wishes as the performance below droned on. He could have been studying comfortably in his room right now, listening to his brother run around the house as they waited for their father to return from his sea voyage.

“Boring!” a young voice echoed, nearly disrupting the performance and pulled Mycroft from his thoughts.

“Sherlock!” Mycroft his as he looked over at his younger brother. “Behave.”

The darked haired boy turned his head to look at him, a heavy frown on his face.

“You’re the one who insisted that we watch this,” Mycroft reminded the younger as he reached out to pull his brother back properly in his seat.

“But it isn’t any good!” his brother complained as he obediently took the offered hand and sat back down. “The story is dull and unbelievable. And the singing is atrocious!”

Mycroft couldn’t help as a corner of his lifted up. He agreed with Sherlock but he had to be the adult. “Then do your best to pretend to like it,” he said as he looked back at the stage, nearly laughing when the younger boy folded his arms over his chest and slumped in his chair. The elder couldn’t help but tease his brothers sometimes.

As the opera dwindled to an end, a ruckus arose as people started filing out of the opera house. Mycroft stood and looked over at his brother expecting to see the same but instead got a droopy-eyed stare. Sighing softly, the auburn haired boy moved in front of his younger sibling. “Come here,” Mycroft whispered as he gently grabbed his brother and lifted him to his chest. The younger boy wrapped his arms around the elder’s neck, placing his head on the other’s shoulder, while he left his legs to fall on either side of Mycroft’s body.

Mycroft took a moment to find his center of gravity at the sudden added weight. It sort of saddened him to see Sherlock almost getting too big to be carried anymore. He remembered fondly of them being children and Sherlock always demanded that his older brother carry him everywhere. That had stopped in the past couple of years but there were times like this that the older boy didn’t mind carrying his younger sibling again.

As they made their way down to the lobby, Mycroft noted that his brother had not lifted his head to do his usual “people watching.” “Tired?” he asked.

“No...,” Sherlock countered weakly as he moved his head up further on Mycroft’s shoulder. “Why wasn’t father there?” he asked suddenly. “He promised to come and watch.”

“Maybe he’s home already,” Mycroft explained as he tried to sooth his brother as he thought about how their father might have gotten caught up doing something at the docks. He moved one hand to reach into his coat pocket and pulled out his watch before flipping it open to check the time. “It’s getting late anyway. You ought to be in bed yourself.”

“Mmm...,” Sherlock hummed softly, neither to agree or disagree with his brother’s statement.

Mycroft continued to walk as he put away his watch but suddenly stopped when Sherlock gave a loud exclamation and pulled up to start rubbing his eyes. He was about to ask what was wrong when he heard someone cry out, “Ah! Mr. Holmes!”

It took Mycroft a moment for it to register that someone had said his last name in reference to him, usually only having heard it used when his father was present with him, and turned to see someone quickly making their way over to them.

On closer look, Mycroft immediately recognized him as one of the messengers of the Adlers. “Joesph? What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Adler’s instructed me to take both of you to his home,” the man explained fiddling with the hat in his hand. “You’ll be staying there for a week or so.”

“That can’t be right...,” Mycroft whispered as a uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Aware of his brother’s concerned gaze on him, he asked. “Did my father instruct this?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” Joseph responded as he shook his head. “All Mr. Adler says..,” he added as he put his hat back on, the glint of a heavy ring with a red cross on it catching in the candle light. “Is that the Order’s having trouble. And that it ain’t safe for our kind to be alone.”

That uneasy feeling soon became nauseating when Mycroft heard those words. “Lead the way,” he demanded.

“Yes, Sir,” replied Joseph. “I have taken the liberty to get your hats and coats. The coach is this way.” He turned and the three of them practically ran out of the building to the horse drawn carriage.

The Adler house was nearly an hour out of London. By the time they arrived, Sherlock had fallen asleep, plastered against Mycroft’s side. As the carriage pulled up to the front doors, Mycroft closed his eyes before opening them again. If anyone was looking closely at him, instead of their usual blue color, they were gold. He peered inside the study window where he had noticed a large group of people and saw only a sea of blue amongst the grey background- the Templar’s allies.

He closed his eyes again when he heard the coach door and opened them to look at Joseph with his normal eye color. “Mr. Adler has set up some rooms for you two,” Joseph said as he nodded to Sherlock. “Should I take him?”

Not able to find his words, the auburn haired boy nodded. Gently as he could so not to wake his brother, he untangled himself before he stepped out. As he walked to the front doors, a feeling a dread pressed against his heart and stomach, that nauseating feeling almost unbearable. As he ascended the steps, the doors opened with the Adler’s butler standing there in a solemn greeting. “Mr. Adler’s in the study,” he said with a bow as he continued to hold the door open as Mycroft entered.

Nodding in thanks, the young man hastily made his way over to the double doors. He stopped just as his hands touched the cold handles, taking a moment to gather his frantic thoughts. Inside he heard the muffled voices but what they were saying he could not make out. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath, before pushing both doors open.

Instantly conversation stopped as he entered the room. Men and women, all key members of the Templar Order in London, turned to see who the new person was. Unsure of what to do, the young man stood there and the crowd stared back at him. There was a sound of a chair scraping against the floor which caused everyone to turn away and allowed Mycroft to see an older man, the left side of his face disfigured by old battle scars, stand up from his desk in the back of the room. “Mycroft,” Mr. Adler greeted without a smile as he stared into the young man’s eyes. “Come in. We have much to discuss.”

_______________________

Months later, Mycroft found himself staring off of the side of the ship as it sailed through a thick fog. He was now used to these seemingly neverending clouds of mist as he and his brother traversed their way to the Colonies. Sherlock was not by his side, but Mycroft did not worry, knowing that the younger was most likely in the same exact spot he had left him in since this morning, curled up in the bowels of the ship ignoring everyone’s presence. Mycroft could not fault him though, wishing he could do the same. As the ocean passed his eye he thought of the events that had lead them on this path....

_Two months ago_

__

_It felt like hours since the Holmes brothers had ended up at the Alder manor. Mycroft found himself still in the study, ignoring the whispers and stares of the people behind him as he studied the painting of Mr. Adler’s family. He felt numb inside and wondered if this was a natural feeling to feel at such a time. There was no anger, no sadness, just an all consuming numb that sat in his belly and heart that had spread throughout his entire body._

__

_His father was dead.... Dying on the voyage that would help the Order in their goals. It was meant to be a simple mission but only to be attacked by the Assassins near the end. Mycroft’s jaw tensed at the thought, the first stab of anger hitting him._

__

_Assassins were the bane of the Order, and now the people responsible for leaving his brother and him orphans. They had no family they could turn to and Mycroft did not know how he was going to tell his brother about their father’s death._

__

_He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard footsteps behind him, though he did not bother to turn around. “I’m sorry about your father,” Mr. Adler, now Grandmaster Adler, said quietly as he came to stand next to the younger man. “He was a good man, a great leader.”_

__

_Mycroft didn’t say anything and instead asked a question to change the subject. “What of the Piece of Eden?” His voice sounded strange to his ear, a mix between strained- almost to the brink of breaking- and gravelly._

__

_The Grandmaster stared at him, though Mycroft did not have the courage to face him. “Lost at sea, I’m afraid,” the scarred man finally replied. “I’m afraid the fleet sunk before we could recover it.”_

__

_“So he died for nothing,” Mycroft sighed with bile rising in his throat._

__

_“He died for the Order, boy,” the older man snapped softly. “That is not nothing. These are dark times, Mycroft, but don’t disrespect the Templar’s way.”_

__

_Mycroft wanted to make a snide remark about how that ended up getting nearly half of the elder’s face cut off but knew that would be crossing a line. “You don’t understand, Mr. Adler,” the younger countered raising a hand and placing it gently on the painting, almost in a longing manner to have the wholeness of his family again. “My brother and I are orphans now. I’m not yet of age. Sherlock doesn’t even know the existence of the Templar Order.... I have no idea how I’ll explain things to him.”_

__

_“You’re not at a complete loss,” Mr. Adler said confidently. “Your father renewed his will shortly before the expedition. He wishes for you to take control of the Colonial Rite. It will be safer there. For both of you._

__

_Mycroft’s eyes widened as he spun to have the other man with an open mouth, speechless. “What kind of idiotic plan is that?” he demanded when he found his voice. “I can’t usurp the Colonial Grandmaster!”_

__

_“Well, it’s hardly usurping if I’m giving you permission,” Mr. Adler replied with a flippant tone._

__

_“You won’t be Grandmaster immediately,” he continued. “But you can already win the Colonial Templar’s favor by proving your worth. You’re a Holmes and you have the sight. You might even be a better leader than your father.” The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment._

__

_“It won’t be easy,” the elder went on quietly. “I’m afraid our kind don’t live easy lives. We rarely even live long enough to see the rewards of our efforts. And England is the only place you’ve ever known. Still, I can think of a million reasons why you ought to go to the Colonies._

__

_“But only one matters, right, Mycroft?” the man said with a measured look, seeing a shift in Mycroft’s eyes as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. “You’ll do it for your brother. And I promise you, he’ll be much happier there than here....”_

____________________________

The words still echoed through Mycroft’s mind, haunting him. He only hoped that it was true and that it would make his brother happier. The auburn haired boy constantly had to remind himself that it was for his brother that he did all this, endure the danger of the sea, and hopefully start a new life for the both of them.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts by a slap on his shoulder and jumped to see Captain Zabara, a family friend and fellow Templar, smiling at him. “We’ll be docking soon,” he said as if to read the younger man’s thoughts at why he was disturbed. “You can go up and check the view if you like.”

Mycroft nodded his thanks before walking over to the center mast. He briefly wondered about getting his brother as he started to climb but somewhere in him he knew Sherlock would not come.

When he reached the top where crows nest was, he was greeted by the watcher. The sun shone high in the sky over the fog and it took a moment for his eyes adjusted. When they did, a sight so amazing was in front of him that only caused him to whisper a soft ‘oh.’

“She’s a beauty ain’t she, lad,” the watcher said as they both stared at the port city. After so many months at sea it was a blessing to see land. In this case though, the sun beamed down on the city, highlighting the tall building towers and the numerous ships coming and going in the port. The city was wide almost as if welcoming them with open arms into its safety while rolling hills surrounded it in the background. The _City on a Hill_ was an aptly good name for the beautiful city before Mycroft’s eyes and he nearly didn’t catch the watcher said to him.

**  
**“Welcome to Boston.”


End file.
